Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
by Safire
Summary: "As if with great thought, he gradually pulled out a small object, swallowed as he looked downward, and with a swift flick of the wrist, tossed it towards the ground near Harry." ... Chapters 1-4 complete --> please review.
1. Unexpected Visitors

1 HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX  
  
Chapter One  
  
UNEXPECTED VISITORS  
  
The sky was particularly dark on this late night in August. Millions of stars filled the sky, yet to the young boy gazing out a window from number four, Privet Drive, it seemed so empty. Harry was usually exuberant when another school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was soon to begin, but this year would be different.  
  
So many memories of his past year were still vivid in his mind, and Harry couldn't help but remember all the horrible ones. He thought of being turned down by his dream girl Cho Chang, the talented and beautiful Ravenclaw seeker. He mused how he and Ron had almost thrown away their blood-brother friendship over a petty argument. And of course he remembered his dreaded mortal enemy Voldemort rising once again and mercilessly murdering a fellow Hogwarts student - Cedric Diggory.  
  
Closing his eyes solemnly, Harry sent a silent prayer to all those people who had suffered, all those whom he had lost. So many people would continue living day-to-day, shielded from the true concerns in life. Never would they have to worry that their loved-ones were at risk. Never would they have to fear that they might need to live without their security someday. Theirs was a life unburdened by the horror of realization. Theirs was a life Harry would never know.  
  
He wanted to be able to live a normal life, one without constant fear and unwanted attention. But even more so, he wanted to keep these burdens from his closest friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. They had gone through the same terrible experiences and would surely understand his disquiet. Harry could only hope that they were coping with these events better than he was.  
  
A distant howling of a dog could be heard from outside, and Harry was roused from his thoughts. He figured he better get going on his summer work. After pulling out a stack of books, he flipped to the Potions homework (describe the effects of adding the different magical species of fungi to the main potion we focused on during class last year). Only a slime ball teacher like Snape would ever assign such work over the summer. Just thinking of the Potions master Snape gave Harry a shiver down his back. That man had quite a dodgy past, and Harry still wasn't sure if he could be trusted, even though Dumbledore had so much faith in him.  
  
Harry groaned, and mumbled under his breath, "Why didn't Hermione get an owl instead of the furball?" He dropped to his bed and lay upon his stomach as he thumbed through the pages of a book, hoping to find some indication of what potion they had focused on in class last year. Did Snape really expect anyone (besides Hermione, of course) to listen to his droning, endless lectures? But even reading his wizarding schoolbooks was more interesting in comparison to listening to his selfish cousin Dudley's relentless complaints about how his school Smeltings doesn't provide enough gravy during lunch. Anything was better than listening to porky Dudley Dursley.  
  
With a start, Harry bolted upright. He had heard a scraping sound from outside his window. Harry hesitated and wondered what he should do. On the one hand, it could be a delivery owl from Hogwarts. On the other, it could be another one of those "Dobby incidents." Harry decided to take a chance and open the window.  
  
Picking up one of his heavy leather-bound texts, he inched towards the window again and cautiously opened the window. No owl appeared bearing packages and letters. No elf popped out of the tree branches shouting incoherent lines (although things like that weren't too unlikely to happen to him, especially at all the wrong times). In fact, Harry didn't see anything or anyone outside.  
  
Assuming it was just the likes of a squirrel, he began to shut the window. Just then, something zoomed into his room at breakneck speed just a few inches from his face. Harry reacted quickly, turning his head to catch a glimpse of the mysterious object. His reflexes were quick and allowed him to see that the flying object was extremely small, gleaming, and about the size of a walnut. Harry recognized it immediately - the Golden Snitch.  
  
He had no idea where it could've come from, but he was determined to find and catch it. He had to, before the Dursleys woke up and stormed into his room screaming. Besides, it would be great practice for Quidditch, which was the most popular wizarding game played on broomsticks. Being cooped up like an old rooster probably did horrors to his seeker techniques.  
  
The Golden Snitch zoomed back and forth in no particular pattern, making it quite difficult to catch. What made the chase even harder was all the clutter in his room (which made Harry realize that he really should clean his room more often, even though most of the crap was Dudley's old toys). Although he tried to be as quiet as possible, Harry couldn't help but trip over several stacks of books, almost knock over Hedwig's cage, and nearly run straight into the wall. At one point, the tiny trinket flew right into Harry's shin, causing it to smart terribly.  
  
Harry was now creating quite a bit of noise, and he swore he could've heard the Dursleys waking up. Finally, Harry managed to catch the elusive Snitch, although it was quite by chance that the small golden sphere flew straight into his opened hand. Just at that second, Uncle Vernon burst into his room wearing green plaid pajamas and grey socks.  
  
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?" he screamed.  
  
Harry stood there for a while, not quite sure what to say. Uncle Vernon looked as if he were about to explode. Aunt Petunia, who was still wearing her nightcap, and a very droopy Dudley stood behind him, peering into the room. They were all waiting for an explanation.  
  
The one thing that Uncle Vernon hated more than anything was abnormality, and Harry was definitely abnormal. He stood there, red and furious. Dudley also looked very red and puffy, but that was obviously for a different reason. Harry was glad he never saw Dudley at this early in the morning before - it wasn't a pleasant sight. Dudley absolutely beamed as Harry stood in hot water.  
  
Even through all the sticky situations he had faced at Hogwarts, Harry had to comb his mind for some kind of excuse to get out of this one. Not that it would really matter, though - an exhausted Uncle Vernon was an angry Uncle Vernon.  
  
"Er...heh, I daresay that was quite a feat of sleepwalking," said Harry quietly.  
  
Uncle Vernon was still fuming with disbelief, but to Harry's surprise, the situation was simply left alone. After all, it must have been almost three in the morning. Uncle Vernon went back to his room, followed closely by Aunt Petunia and a very disappointed Dudley. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his bed. He knew there would be much worse the following morning, but until then he decided not to give it another thought. Harry fell asleep without even taking another glance at the strange object that was still gripped tightly in his hand.  
  
***  
  
The following morning, Harry was tired and sluggish. He had spent so much time trying to find that little Snitch that he was completely worn out. He stood in front of a mirror and tried to fix his unruly jet-black hair, even though he knew it would never fall straight. He stared long at the only memory he had of his deceased parent - the strange lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Sometimes it was painful to think of them, and how they had given their lives to save his. Harry quickly wiped his glasses with a towel and then walked slowly down the stairs.  
  
Surprised that he hadn't heard a single demand of him yet, Harry reached the kitchen but found no one there. Then he realized that it was already ten o'clock. Why hadn't Aunt Petunia screamed for him to wake up? Why hadn't Uncle Vernon forced him to get the paper? Why hadn't Dudley thrown his stinky socks onto his bed? A strange feeling began to churn inside of him. The Dursleys were always in the kitchen in the morning.  
  
Harry ran from room to room searching for any sign of them. On usual circumstances, he would have been exuberant if they left him alone in the house for weeks on end, but this time it seemed too unusual. Dudley's backpack was still propped against his bedroom wall. Uncle Vernon's tidy suit was still hanging on the closet door. Aunt Petunia's grocery list was still posted on the refrigerator door.  
  
The entire house was silent and still, and when there came a sharp RAP RAP RAP on the front door, Harry nearly jumped off his feet. He walked over and tried to peer out the window, but couldn't see anyone. He opened the door just slightly but saw no one there. Suddenly, a man and woman appeared out of nowhere right in front of him. Harry could tell they were wizards, for the man was wearing a bright green cloak and the woman a black witch hat with red stars. They were both also wearing black robes with a silver fastening.  
  
"Good day, Mr. Potter," said the man in a serious voice.  
  
The woman smiled, trying to be a little bit friendlier. "Harry, I'm sure you don't recognize us. My name is Arabella Figg and this is Mons Iubeo. We work with the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Harry stood frozen. Arabella Figg was his babysitter - the cat- owning woman with the house that reeked of cabbage two streets away. But she never looked quite like this. She no longer appeared old, mad, and muddled. Rather, she seemed rather young and intelligent.  
  
"Yes, Harry," she said, as if reading his mind, "I have pretended to be that muggle for so many years. I did this to protect you, watch over you. Of course it was just awful to have to act so...well...mad, but it was the only way to keep people from trying to visit my home and such. It's full of Ministry objects, you see. Apparently, your Uncle and Aunt realized that someone as strange as I wouldn't be spreading rumors about their "abnormal" nephew -"  
  
Harry remained silent the whole time. It didn't seem that things could get any stranger, but suddenly another wizard was beginning to Apparate at the front door of number four, Privet Drive. It took a moment for Harry to figure who, but when he did, he became inclined to throw a something at him, something hard.  
  
"Ah, Severus," said Mr. Iubeo. "Surely you know Severus Snape, Harry." Snape glared at Harry with cold eyes. He was never quite fond of Harry and his friends.  
  
"Yes, of course," said Harry reproachfully.  
  
"The headmaster just wanted me to make sure that the two of you inform him of the important news," said Snape, who had turned back to Mr. Iubeo and Mrs. Figg.  
  
"Oh, right. Harry, we know you must be worried about your relatives, the Dursleys, but we assure you that they will be fine," said Mr. Iubeo. "We are doing everything we can to figure out how Vol -"  
  
"In the interim, however, we think it would be best for you to stay at your godfather's residence," interrupted Mrs. Figg quickly. Harry's pale face suddenly brightened, and the sparkle in Harry's bright green eyes returned. "Just go pack the things you need for the new year, and we'll be back in an hour, alright? Sorry it has to be so sudden, but we mustn't waste too much time here."  
  
Mr. Iubeo and Mrs. Figg waved goodbye and then promptly Disapparated again. Snape, however, stayed behind for a second to throw in an extra note of encouragement to Harry before he left.  
  
"You seem to have lots of free time on your hands, Potter. Perhaps you'd like an extra assignment? Write up a two-page report about the differences between the potions described in chapter eight of Magical Drafts and Potions. I trust you'll have both assignments fully completed before class starts again. Oh...and tell Sirius I send my best regards. Enjoy the rest of your break." With a smirk on his face, he quickly disappeared.  
  
Harry muttered something undistinguishable under his breath, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then slammed the front door. He raced up to his room and hastily packed his schoolbooks into the trunk, along with his wand, school robes, and equipment. Just then, Harry realized that he never really examined the little gift he received yesterday night, so he reached under his bed and took out the Broomstick Servicing Kit that Hermione had given him two years ago for his birthday. He had left the Golden Snitch inside the sleek black case that morning.  
  
Harry opened the box and quickly snatched the ball before it could eagerly take flight again. As he held it, he immediately saw that it was not a normal Snitch. For one thing, the orb was embossed with many strange designs. They were incredibly fine and detailed, but Harry could make out a central picture of some kind of creature - a bird perhaps - surrounded by mountains. There seemed to be many markings encircling the creature, but they were much too small for Harry to discern. He would've stood there all day inspecting the strange object, but he remembered he had to pack.  
  
Stuffing all his remaining belongings into another trunk, and grabbing Hedwig's cage, Harry rushed down the stairs. When he reached the living room, he began staring impatiently out the living room window, then he would pace and glance at the clock, then peer out the window again. It was a vicious cycle. He couldn't wait to see his godfather again - he was always kind and honest to Harry. And as far as Harry knew, Sirius was the closest link to his parents.  
  
***  
  
True to her word, Mrs. Figg returned in exactly one hour, at 11:24. However, neither Mr. Iubeo nor Snape was there, so Harry could loosen up a bit. What Harry didn't quite understand was how they were going to get to Sirius's house - Mrs. Figg hadn't brought anything back. She just waited by a lamppost dressed like a normal person with a pocket watch in her hand.  
  
Harry left the house, dragging his trunk and other possessions behind him. Mrs. Figg hurried over to help him out.  
  
Mrs. Figg then stood by the street staring at her pocket watch. She seemed entranced, or very concerned about the time. Harry didn't want to bother her, but there were so many questions floating around in his head.  
  
"Er - Mrs. Figg, I mean - well -" started Harry.  
  
She looked up briefly and then smiled warmly. "Go ahead."  
  
"Er - a couple years ago, Aunt Petunia told me you broke your leg so you couldn't watch me that day. But if you're a witch, why didn't you just heal yourself? I mean, I lost all the bones in my arm once, but Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse, she just grew -"  
  
Mrs. Figg chuckled a little and said with a smile, "Harry, I didn't really break my leg. I just had a really important Ministry meeting that day so I needed an excuse. I was thinking about saying that another one of my cats died or that a clan of rabid groundhogs ravaged my lawn, but those seemed kind of strange. It's amusing how many excuses muggles can use to get out of things." She paused for a second to look back at her pocket watch and then the sky. "Ah! All right then. So are you ready, Harry?"  
  
"Ready for what...?" began Harry, who stopped when he heard a faint rumbling from up above. Harry lifted his head to find the source of the ruckus, but he couldn't quite believe his eyes. Sirius Black was looking down on Harry and smiling as he hovered atop a massive motorcycle. 


	2. To Sleep, To Dream

Chapter Two  
  
TO SLEEP, TO DREAM  
  
Floating several yards off the ground in a normal little town was the notorious Sirius Black. He remained motionless with an expressionless guise on his face, his black, ragged hair now cut neater, but still draped in a kind of sadness. Yet everyone knew what he was actually like: that cold heart of his had betrayed James and Lily Potter and then mercilessly slaughtered thirteen innocent muggles years ago. He, however, had been unsuccessful in hunting down his evasive target, Harry Potter. And to the horror of wizards everywhere, he escaped the death sentence that he so dearly ought to have.  
  
This was how every wizard would remember Sirius Black. Except, of course, those few people who knew the truth. Sirius Black was framed for the Potters' murder fifteen years ago by Peter Pettigrew. Even worse, Peter Pettigrew used to be one of their closest friends. They were the rat pack of Hogwarts: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Their presence was magnetic, their spirits were intense, and their friendship was unlimited. If only things could go back to the way it used to be.  
  
"Good day, Harry! Didn't give you too much of a fright, did I?" yelled Black as he set the motorcycle down. Harry smiled and shouted back to his loving Godfather, "Not at all, Sirius. Good to see you!"  
  
Black didn't hesitate to head over to Figg, who stood propped against the lamppost. Her dark hair just grazed over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. Harry watched as he smiled warmly at her. The feeling was most definitely mutual.  
  
"Hello, Sirius," she said kindly. "I see you've finally rid yourself of that unkempt hair." She raised her eyebrows teasingly.  
  
Sirius breathed an audible sigh of amusement. "Hello, Arabella. Hope this day's finding you well." He reached for her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back, not breaking eye contact even once. At first she only looked at him, but then there was a tentative laugh, as she said, "Haven't lost your chivalry, at least. But you do know…Sirius?"  
  
He grinned ineptly and looked down. One could barely hear him whisper, "Yeah…of course."  
  
Harry didn't quite know what was going on (which seemed to happen a lot), but he figured that his godfather must've had some kind of connection with Figg in the past. Perhaps they had worked together.  
  
"You guys know each other?" queried Harry bluntly.  
  
Sirius was taken aback for a second, as if waking up from a daydream. "Oh, well…yeah, since you were just a wee babe."  
  
Figg added, "You probably don't remember, but Hagrid actually brought you this exact place on this same motorcycle." She smiled warmly. "It was a wondrous day."  
  
Averting his eyes to the ground, Harry tried not to think about what had happened on that day. It was Halloween night fifteen years ago when Voldemort had broken into the Potters' house at Godric Hollow and ruthlessly murdered Harry's parents.  
  
Figg bit her lip nervously, an empathetic look on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."  
  
Sirius walked over to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Harry tried to smile, but he couldn't, not while he knew that Voldemort was still out there with plenty of followers.  
  
"Harry, believe you me that so many people are trying to comfort and protect you. You've already been through so much, and at such a young age... If you ever need something - something to get you through all of this - just tell us."  
  
Harry slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Sirius'. "I know something. I need to know the truth, the absolute truth. I want to visit the place where my mum and dad were killed." Harry's eyes burned with gravity, and his voice was strong. Sirius obviously wasn't quite ready for this. He didn't know how to respond to this, as he kept glancing at Figg. She apparently didn't know what to say to Harry either. Sirius' face became sorrowful, and his voice became quieter as he began to answer Harry's request.  
  
"Look, you know how dangerous the world is right now. There are so many people that would just love to get their hands on you and - well - you get the idea." Sirius evidently wasn't the best at comforting people in mortal danger. "Anyways, there are just as many people who want to keep you safe, to protect you. And you know very well that I, as well as Dumbledore and everyone else in the Ministry, am one of them."  
  
Harry just looked back at him sharply. "I need to know the truth. I deserve that much. You can't just decide that I'm unable to handle the reality when I've already been able to deal with dragons, broomstick curses, mountain trolls, basilisks, death eaters, the unforgivable..."  
  
"Okay, okay. I think we've got your point now." Sirius sighed in defeat. "If you really want to know more about your past, you're going to have to see Professor Dumbledore. I don't think I'm qualified to give you all the facts, but I'm sure he is. He's quite possibly the best friend any wizard could have, that man." Sirius paused with a certain air of abstraction.  
  
Clearing her throat, Figg interrupted his thoughts. "Perhaps we should get moving, Sirius? Someone might see us."  
  
"Ah, we certainly should. Ready to visit my humble abode, Harry? It's really not much. But really, it's quite a palace compared to that dingy little cave with all those bats, annoying bugs, and puddles of..."  
  
"Yeah, I think I've got your point now," said Harry with a grin.  
  
***  
  
That day Harry learned what an awful driver Sirius was. Harry hung onto dear life, as well as his godfather's neck, while the motorcycle zipped through treetops and telephone wires at near ninety miles per hour. It became quite clear to Harry why Mrs. Figg decided to simply use Floo Powder rather than get a ride from Sirius.  
  
"Are you alright back there?" Sirius yelled against the rushing wind.  
  
Harry didn't answer because he couldn't. All the noise that came out of his mouth quickly disappeared with the rushing wind.  
  
"Harry? You're still there, right?" Sirius screamed again, this time battling the squawks of a flock of geese that seemed one goose too many.  
  
Harry finally managed to shout a little. "Yeah...doin' great."  
  
Sirius smiled and sped up just a little. Harry held on even tighter.  
  
***  
  
Finally, they arrived at Sirius' house. The small brick cabin, red in colour, was situated in the midst of a small forest. There was a small pond nearby as well as a thicket.  
  
"Not bad," said Harry honestly. "Do you like it here?"  
  
"Well, beggars can't be choosers. Besides, it gets better in the inside. Dumbledore made sure I had everything I would need, just in case. Anyways, all your cases are in the bedroom, Harry. You take my bed; I'll just use the couch."  
  
"Oh, but really I'm just a guest, so –"  
  
"I insist," he countered with the slightest hint of a growl in his voice.  
  
Harry suddenly didn't feel up to challenging Sirius. He did what he was told.  
  
Upon opening the main door, Harry's eyes brightened in delight. The cozy house was plain, yet it was full of magical implements that must've been provided by Dumbledore himself. Harry's eyes scanned the entire room, trying to take in every little detail as if they would disappear in a second. It was almost as breathtaking as the Weasley's burrow.  
  
Sirius walked in after Harry and saw the look of astonishment on Harry's face. Figg, who must've been there for a while already, had made herself comfortable at the kitchen table. A cup of hot tea rested on the table, and she held a newspaper in her hand. She looked up at Harry and Sirius and smiled.  
  
"Now you're free to look around the house," continued Sirius. "I've got but one request. Don't send out Hedwig, not even to Ron or Hermione or Hagrid..."  
  
"Not to worry," said Harry quickly. He knew that owls were often intercepted, and letters could fall into the wrong hands. Sometimes wizards were even bribed to find information from letter-bearing owls. "I would never do anything that risky," Harry lied.  
  
The rest of the day went by quickly. Sirius explained some of the magical instruments in the cabin, like the Inferno 500, the top-of-the-line automatic torch that would turn on whenever light was needed. Or that metallic cube that hung from the ceiling that kept precise time.  
  
Harry noticed that above the fireplace (which was most likely used only for the purpose of Floo traveling) there was a painting - that is, if one could call it a painting at all. There wasn't a picture in the frame at all. Supposing they characters had run off to somewhere else like at Hogwarts, Harry stared long and hard at it, but nothing happened. Harry just couldn't resist asking.  
  
Sirius turned to faced the large white canvas and cocked his head a tad, but didn't say a word. Harry thought he saw his mouth twitch, about to say something, but it must've been his imagination.  
  
"Just an old painting," he responded before quickly describing the risks of operating the Cauldron Cooker. Harry got the impression that Sirius had strayed from the topic for a reason. He took one last glance towards the canvas before putting it out of his mind.  
  
Harry spent the rest of the day in the bedroom, studying for his classes. He could hear Sirius conversing with Figg, but what they spoke of was as much a guess for Harry as it would be for anyone else. By nightfall, Harry was more than grateful for forty winks. So much had happened today, Harry could hardly keep his eyes open as he read his textbooks. At around 7 o'clock Sirius stopped in to check up on Harry.  
  
"Hey, Harry. You got everything you need?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm good."  
  
"Alright then. You don't mind if Ara…Mrs. Figg stays a while, do you?"  
  
"Not at all," said Harry, although he couldn't help but smirk Sirius shook his head the way parents do when their young children say something ridiculous, and smiled in return as he slowly closed the door behind him. Harry yawned, hungry for sleep. Not wanting to waste another second, he hurried over to his trunk. If Harry wasn't so busy looking through his trunk for his pajamas, he might just have heard the small click from the door.  
  
During the middle of the night, Harry woke up with a start. His hand flew directly up to his scar. He felt a quick burst of pain, but it disappeared instantly. Harry didn't know what that could've been, but he didn't want to risk anything. Slowly and with great caution, Harry threw himself out of bed, and the torch on the wall began to glow strongly. He hastily put on his glasses and tossed on his cloak. But when he tried to open the door, it was locked. Shaking the knob furiously, Harry tried again while shouting out to Sirius, but to no avail. He then pulled out his wand.  
  
He studied the door carefully, saying "Alohomora."  
  
Nothing happened. Panic building inside of him, Harry rammed the door a couple times, hoping maybe, somehow, it would – fall down? How ridiculous, thought Harry. He threw one of his heavier textbooks at the door repeatedly, only creating dents in the old wood. He then ran over to the small window, which also turned out to be locked.  
  
With no other alternative, Harry grabbed a rather heavy flowerpot resting in the corner of the room and chucked it with all the force he could muster. Maybe he imagined the round vase to be a Bludger, or Snape's head. Regardless of exactly what was running through his head, a deafening smash soon echoed throughout the room, and surely throughout the thicket outside as well, followed by shards of glass scattering across the floor. With many questions and concerns running through his mind, he climbed out the shattered window, careful not to cut himself.  
  
It was completely dark outside, with the exception of the bright radiance of the full moon. He whispered, "Lumos," and as he explored the environs of the cabin, it seemed that there was always something peering over his shoulder or rustling in the shadows of the copse.  
  
"Sirius? Padfoot? Buckbeak?" he called out nervously. Over his years at Hogwarts, he had developed a great dislike for strange noises during the night. Harry approached the thicket, reconsidering his actions with every step he took. He didn't see anything, but suddenly heard a quiet voice from behind him.  
  
"Potter?"  
  
Paralyzed with fear, his heart skipped a beat or two. He didn't want to turn around, but the cold, flat voice also seemed oddly familiar. Upon turning, his face changed from fear to anger.  
  
"Malfoy...what are you doing here?" His voice was a barely audible whisper.  
  
Draco Malfoy, Harry's unpleasant school rival from Slytherin house, stood still. The moonlight left bizarre shadows on his pale figure and highlighted his silver-blond hair. He seemed a bit disheveled, but obviously was attempting to hide this from Harry. Without another word, the boy turned away and began walking towards the thicket.  
  
Harry wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. With quick steps, Harry shot out his hand to grab Draco by the arm, causing him to cringe at the contact. Harry spun him around and stood face to face with his rival, whose sharp grey eyes were more intense than ever. The boy still seemed to be hiding something, his mouth twitching just slightly.  
  
"I'll ask you again. What are you doing skulking around here?" demanded Harry in a louder tone.  
  
Draco remained reserved as he quickly pulled away from Harry's tightening grip and began leaving again. But before he was completely immersed in the dark thicket, Harry saw him stop and reach into his black robe. Expecting Draco to pull a spell on him, Harry lifted his wand, prepared to duel. Draco, however, didn't turn around. As if with great thought, he gradually pulled out a small object, swallowed as he looked downward, and with a swift flick of the wrist, tossed it towards the ground near Harry.  
  
Harry could only stand and watch as Draco disappeared into the shadows of the thicket, his black cloak floating mysteriously behind him.  
  
Still quite confused as to what just happened, Harry reluctantly bent down to pick up the object. It was a worn velvet pouch, almost completely empty. He flipped the pouch upside down and a shiny key fell into his hand...  
  
In a split second, Harry looked around and found himself in the cabin once again. He was sitting upright in the bed, and Sirius was standing next to him, looking ever so concerned. Harry looked down at the floor, searching for the slivers of glass, but there was nothing. He blinked heavily and shook his head.  
  
"Sirius...where were you?"  
  
"I'm right here, Harry. Nothing to worry about. Everything's fine...just fine."  
  
"But - the door was locked – and the window smashed – Draco..." Harry attempted to retell what he had gone through, but it came out as a jumble of words. It wasn't dream; it was reality. Of this he was absolutely sure. Harry's eyes darted left to right, and something popped back into his head. "THE KEY! Where's the key?" He grabbed for his robes and searched the pockets, but they were empty except for his wand. Sirius stood calmly the whole time, his expression unchanging.  
  
"You must've been dreaming, Harry. You've been in bed the whole time, and I've been on the couch the whole time. I know you've had a long day, so just go back to sleep." Sirius patted Harry's head, vainly attempting to console him, and left the room. As he closed the door behind him, Harry could see the obvious indentations in the old wood. 


	3. Acquaintances

Chapter Three  
  
ACQUAINTANCES  
  
By the following morning, Harry's growing suspicions had swelled into quite a large matter. He was sure there was something fishy going on, something that everyone knew about except him.  
  
When Harry opened the bedroom door, Sirius, who was standing directly in front of that blank canvas, promptly grabbed something resting on the mantle and stuffed it into his pocket. A weak smile forced its way onto his face as Sirius addressed Harry.  
  
"Hey there, mate! Uh, how'd you sleep?"  
  
"Fine," Harry responded, narrowing his eyes. "So anything interesting in the papers today?"  
  
"What did you say?" he asked with an odd look on his face.  
  
"The daily – anything good?"  
  
"No, not particularly…" As he responded, his hand appeared to have instinctively clenched the cloak pocket.  
  
Harry's brows arched as he inched back into the room, bit by bit. That was curious, he thought. But Harry had a plan. Peering through the crack of the door, he noticed that Sirius had resumed his staring session with the nonexistent painting…and that his cloak was now draped over a chair. Grinning slyly, Harry scanned the bedroom and his eyes found Hedwig's iron cage. The owl was still fast asleep, her white plumage slightly covering her face. Harry managed to gently position the cage up to the open window and unlatch the door.  
  
"Sorry, gal, but I need your help," whispered Harry before ferociously shaking the cage.  
  
The giant snowy owl went into panic, flapping her wings furiously. Without looking back, she took off into the thicket, and then came back. She continued flying back and forth, hooting loudly and rustling the leaves. Sirius jerked his head up abruptly, directing his eyes towards a window. He snatched his wand, which he had left on the mantle, and ran outside to find the source of the commotion. He did, after all, have to stay inconspicuous...and a cranky snowy owl awake during the day didn't help that cause much at all.  
  
With a wily look of triumph on his face, he murmured, "Better remember to thank Fred and George for that one," and rushed over to Sirius' unused cloak. His rifling soon came into contact with something – a scrap of paper. After snatching the prize he dashed back into the bedroom, locked the door, and began his inspection.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
1 THE DAILY PROPHET  
  
Saturday, August 26th, 1995  
  
DEATH EATER DISTURBANCES ARISE Outer Hebrides, Scotland  
  
Late last night, several eyewitnesses reported bright lights emerging from a deep, abandoned thicket on an allegedly desolate island off the coast of the Outer Hebrides. There is much suspicion that the source of this disturbance was the wretched clan of Death Eaters who follow He-Who-Shall- Not-Be-Named. Authorities have begun questioning locals of the Outer Hebrides in hopes of tracking more precise details, but few people desire to openly testify against this ghastly group. Ministry officials refuse to comment further on the subject.  
  
2 RECOVERY OF OUR BELOVE-  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
It suddenly seemed so obvious. Not that Harry was all too familiar with the customs of the Death Eaters, but perhaps yesterday was, in some twisted way, Draco Malfoy's "rite of passage." Harry couldn't help but shudder at the very thought. He could just picture it: within the dark shroud of the thicket, the iniquitous Death Eaters surrounded Draco – standing prideful and tall with that dreary smirk on his face. The crowd chanted recitations, performed rituals, honoured their risen leader...and now Draco was one of them.  
  
Unfortunately, Harry's concentration was interrupted. Sirius entered silently into the bedroom, the snowy owl perched calmly upon his arm. With a distressingly quiet voice he asked, "Why the bloody hell was Hedwig outside?"  
  
Harry bit his lip and met Sirius' burning stare, but not before he nonchalantly slipped the stolen article under his pillow. He wanted nothing more than to tell his godfather what had really happened, and everything that he found out. But then again there was the possibility that Sirius already knew. Perhaps he had seen with his own two eyes the horrors that took place in the darkness of the thicket. Either way, the words didn't come out quite right.  
  
"I – I'm sorry. I didn't see where I was going – and I just ran right into her cage. It was entirely my fault."  
  
Still flustered, Sirius turned around toward the window and sighed. "You're damn right, it's your fault. But I guess I am taking this security thing too far as well."  
  
The two of them remained silent for a while, most likely at a loss of words. Eventually Harry's godfather spoke up quietly, "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about it right now..." Harry noticed the strange tone of voice and turned to look at Sirius, only to find see a horrific sight through the window.  
  
A band of cloaked men were walking towards the cabin. Death Eaters.  
  
Eyes narrowed on his now twisted face, Sirius immediately pulled Harry up from the bed, pushed him out of the bedroom, and continued to force him roughly towards the fireplace. No matter how many walls he was scraped against or how many leg chairs he was pushed into, Harry remained silent.  
  
The whole place was complete chaos. Sounds of a desperate escape clashed with the mounting pounds of footsteps outside. Cold fear ran through both of them, for surely if the Death Eaters were here, Voldemort would soon be here as well.  
  
Pulling out his wand, Sirius hastily shouted "Incendio!" Afterward he snatched a small clay jar hanging from a torch by the fireplace and scattered some of the silvery powder from the jar into the flame. There was an abrupt gleam of light as the golden-brown flames in the fireplace changed to a brilliant green. With another push, Harry was urged toward the flame, but he stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
"Sirius, you're coming with me! You can't take on all those Death Eaters by yourself. No one can."  
  
"I'll be right behind you."  
  
"Sirius, I'm not a kid anymore. No longer can I be tricked with simple words."  
  
He sighed. "All right, I'll level with you. That blank painting, it's called a Silver Board. It's how I've kept in touch with Dumbledore and the others. This morning they sent me the Daily Prophet and warned me that the Dark Side somehow learned that we were here." As Sirius hurriedly ran through an explanation, the approaching footsteps became louder.  
  
"Wait, do you mean to say that more people know you're in hiding? Not just Dumbledore?"  
  
"Yes," he responded hesitantly, "a few people from a certain group. The past members were recently called back by the headmaster for an urgent mission. Arabella Figg was one of them." Out of the blue there was a violent pounding at the door.  
  
"There's no time to argue, Harry. I put a spell on the door, but with that many people it won't hold for long. Go to Diagon Alley and don't wait up for me. Just find someone to stay with until it's time for the Express. Please, you have to trust me."  
  
Harry looked at his godfather, whose face looked grave yet determined. He promptly nodded and jumped into the flame, clearly pronouncing the words "Diagon Alley."  
  
As he was being swallowed into the swirling green fire, he could see Sirius poised and formidable, aiming his wand at the cabin door as dark figures came crashing through. And then everything was gone.  
  
***  
  
Diagon Alley was a wondrous place, with wizarding shops of all sorts: from cauldrons to potions, galleons to wands, books to snacks. It was the place where wizards went to purchase whatever they needed.  
  
Usually Harry was full of excitement whenever he had the chance to visit Diagon Alley, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of what had just happened…and what was to come. Surprisingly he didn't even breathe a quick sigh of relief for successfully arriving at the right place after traveling with floo powder. In one piece, too.  
  
He meandered through the crowds, rather heedlessly, obliging everyone else to move out of his way. He soon realized the need to pay attention, especially after he walked straight into the dusty display window of Flourish and Blott's, inciting a group of noticeably cute girls about his age to giggle. Harry was glad he didn't recognize any of them from Hogwarts (but then again, his glasses had fallen off and they all looked like blurry blobs anyways).  
  
Quickly putting himself back together, he gave a quick grin at the group of girls, who were making a poor attempt at curbing their laughter. Harry's face was flushed out of embarrassment, and as such he opted not to make any conversation. Rather he continued walking and soon found himself in front of Madam Malkin's shop. He opened the door, driving away the white and brown cat that had been basking in the sun.  
  
After a half an hour or so, Harry left the shop carrying a shopping bag stuffed with boxes. Among them was a nice dress robe for Ron, just in case. Really Harry wasn't one to squander his parents' fortune on luxuries. He then finished up purchasing the necessary schoolbooks (except for the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 which Hermione had sent as a birthday gift earlier).  
  
There were always plenty of young wizards and witches shopping at Diagon Alley around this time. Everyone had to prepare for the new year at Hogwarts. Harry especially enjoyed watching the first years gawk at all the schoolbooks they needed, the different exotic magical pets they could purchase, or the mystical potions and wands to which they would soon be quite accustomed. He could clearly remember his first time to Diagon Alley and to the entire world of wizardry itself four years ago.  
  
He even remembered the way everyone had known his name by heart. In the pub, random people had come up to him, excited and shocked.  
  
"Harry Potter! What an honour to meet you!"  
  
"You don't know how long I've waited for this moment!"  
  
"Harry! Over here!"  
  
How peculiar. Harry was almost positive that the last voice was real. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping to see someone – anyone – just to make certain that he wasn't losing it. What he saw was a group of young children gaping at the newest broomstick models in the display window. One was particularly tall and lanky in the group. He was wearing a dark blue hand-made sweater, and had distinguishably red hair and a lot of freckles...  
  
"HARRY!" Ron shouted again enthusiastically, waving his arms above his head. All the first years that were peering into the Quidditch shop window scuttled away. "Oops..."  
  
With a raise of his eyebrows, Harry replied in jest, "Heh, nice going there, buddy."  
  
Ron had a wide grin on his face as he walked over. Anyone who hadn't spent the last four years under a rock knew that Ron and Harry were the best of friends, with quarrels and all. No matter how horrible their arguments, both of the Gryffindor fifth years always worked around the differences.  
  
"Why didn't you come visit last week?" inquired Ron.  
  
"What? Did you invite me?"  
  
After a moment of ponder, Ron exclaimed, "Ugh, it's that crikey owl again!"  
  
"That's alright – the mail thing, I mean. Maybe I can come visit the Burrow after we finish buying all our stuff. I don't really have any other place to go anyways." Harry decided to keep the whole Sirius ordeal to himself until they could go somewhere less crowded.  
  
"Not too sure about that. My dad had to go away for an important meeting, and my mum went with him. Percy gave us all a lift."  
  
"Oh, well that's fine," said Harry, although disappointment was certainly present in his voice. The Weasley family, especially Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, were always warm to him, as if he were one of their own children.  
  
"Sorry, Harry. Pig always gets lost. Make him fly more than fifty feet with a letter, and he just collapses right there on the earth. And his damn flying skills are horrible – freaking thing flew right into a muggle's post container once."  
  
"Postbox," said Harry quietly, trying to suppress a laugh. "You know, Ron, if Hermione were here, she would be telling you off quite a bit right now."  
  
Ron's face went a bit red. "Yeah, well if Hermione were here, we wouldn't be in this mess right now, would we? Hermione has the answer to everything."  
  
Judging by his attitude, Harry could tell something was wrong. Hermione and Ron were usually very close. They always got along well with each other unless there was some other guy involved...  
  
"So what has Hermione been up to this holiday? I didn't get to keep in touch with her too much," said Harry coolly.  
  
"You want to know what Hermione's been doing? Well, I know one person she's been doin- "  
  
"Just tell me, would you?"  
  
"It's just that Hermione has been all over the place this summer. I haven't been able to spend any time with her at all." He looked over at Harry, who seemed sort of surprised. "What?"  
  
"Nothing, go on," said Harry, who was grinning ever so slightly.  
  
"Well whenever I invited her over, you know, just to hang around, she said she had plans. I finally figured out she was visiting Krum in Bulgaria to watch him practice and teach him some English and stuff." Ron kept shuffling his feet and kicking imaginary stones.  
  
"Well, if I'd known you fancied Hermione, I would've told her something earlier!" said Harry with great enthusiasm.  
  
"What are you talking about? I don't fancy Hermione! I just think it to be in her best interest if she didn't waste so much time with someone who calls her Herm-own-ninny and - " Ron abruptly broke off, so Harry gazed over his shoulder to see what was going on.  
  
Now, there was nothing out of the ordinary at first: just leaving a nearby shop was bushy-haired Hermione carrying a rather large stack of books. At that point, Ron subtly gave Harry a convincing jab in the ribs to keep his mouth shut. However, when Hermione spotted her friends and gave a fervent wave, a few of her books fell to the ground. Before either of the boys even had a chance to help her, another person - tall, handsome, and pleasant – exited the same store after her and retrieved the fallen books. Beaming happily, he stood back up and handed them to Hermione, who returned the smile. Harry and Ron could only gape.  
  
It was Lockhart. 


	4. Scarlet Beauty

Chapter Four  
  
SCARLET BEAUTY   
  
"Harry, Ron! I'm sure you remember Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart!" said Hermione excitedly.  
  
With her stood a charming man with wavy blond hair that glistened in the sun. He still wore the humongous smile on his face, showing off the perfect white teeth that complimented his crystal blue eyes wonderfully.  
  
Harry smiled slightly, a dumb look on his face. "Looks like he recovered pretty well..." he whispered between his teeth. He could barely hear Ron (who was still bowled over with disgust) utter a response. They both remembered the self-absorbed personality of "Professor" Lockhart from three years ago. Everything he had said and done was a hoax, fabricated from thin air to increase his reputation.  
  
"Mr. Lockhart, these are my friends Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley!" Hermione turned towards him and lowered her voice, saying, "They used to be your students as well."  
  
Just to keep from being too rude, Harry had to urge on Ron with a good shove.   
  
"But just look at that guy…it doesn't take a fortune teller to know he's all shine and no substance…I bet his teeth are fake, too…."  
  
"Ron, shut it. There are other people here, people who can hear you."  
  
Lockhart continued smiling as he walked over to them and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, gentlemen!" Harry took his hand and shook it strongly.  
  
"It's good to see you again, sir."  
  
"Oh Merlin, you needn't address me so! If anything, I should be addressing you with respect! It truly is a joy to meet you – again, as I am told." Harry didn't know what else to do but smile.  
  
Ron, on the other hand, just stood there with the same look on his face. After a while, Lockhart's grin diminished a bit, seeing that Ron wasn't going to take his hand. But Hermione shot Ron a reprimanding glare, forcing him to finally speak up. He didn't make too much of an effort to be discreet.  
  
"Ah yes. Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award. Who could possibly forget you?"  
  
Lockhart's smile lessened a little. "Am I really…?" He made a restrained sound of awe in his throat but said no more.  
  
"Anyways," continued Hermione, turning back to Lockhart, "You might want to find a nice room for the night. Someone will come to pick you up tomorrow." He nodded genially, and bid farewell to Hermione, then Harry and Ron. She made sure to watch him even as he walked away, two cases in hand. Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry had to bite his lip, just to keep from bursting out in laughs.  
  
When the handsome man was out of sight, Hermione switched her attention to Harry and Ron, and she beamed brightly as she gave them both a friendly hug.  
  
"I missed you guys so much!"  
  
Ron snorted. "Looks like you missed Lockhart even more."  
  
Hermione became serious. "Why do you still scoff him? He's gone through a lot, that man. He was supposed to meet some ministry people who would help him around, and he got a bit lost –"  
  
Both Ron and Harry burst into laughs; Hermione crossed her arms, annoyed.  
  
"Well! I can see both you have really matured! At least I attempted to show some genuine compassion!"  
  
"I guess that was pretty noble of you," replied Harry, still trying to stifle his snickers. Ron, however, was still having a laugh riot, mimicking a very befuddled Lockhart tapping his wand in vain at the brick wall to Diagon Alley.  
  
"Well, thank you, Harry. At least someone has some common sense here…I emphasize some…." Hermione had gone back to glaring at both of the boys, as Harry began roaring with laughter again at Ron's newest impersonation: Hermione giddily prancing after the very confused Lockhart.  
  
"Oh honestly! I mean, it's not like I followed him around."  
  
"Right, right…what was that restraining spell you used again?" said Ron sarcastically. Hermione tried to ignore them, although a smile did begin to creep onto her face.  
  
Clearly anyone could see that the three of them were the very epitome of true friendship.  
  
***  
  
The trio finished up quickly in Diagon Alley, and most of the time was spent catching up with each other anyways. Of course, it wasn't too much of a surprise to Harry or Ron when Hermione excitedly informed them that she had received an owl declaring her one of the Gryffindor prefects. However, both Hermione and Ron were shocked when Harry admitted to not receiving any notice of becoming Quidditch captain.  
  
"But who else is more experienced?"  
  
"Or capable?"  
  
"Or deserving?"  
  
Harry blushed a bit, happy to have such supportive friends. "Actually," he replied, "I though Fred or George would be chosen, but –"  
  
"Nah, they didn't get any owls either. Well, none about Quidditch anyhow…."  
  
"I'm sure you'll get the position next year then," added Hermione optimistically. "Maybe the professors were merely inclined to choose seventh years, like Angelina, seeing that it was their last year. It is a shame that one of your brothers didn't make the cut though, Ron."  
  
"I bet the professors figured in good behavior, or lack thereof, along with skill, eh? Clever bunch, I'd say," said Ron with a wry smile.  
  
"Going back to the Burrow until the Express, are we?" Hermione enjoyed spending time at the Weasleys' abode as much as Harry; she shared his disappointment at Ron's response as well.  
  
"Well, come on then. We might as well stay at the Leaky Cauldron until the express."  
  
"Sounds good," said Ron and Harry simultaneously. Any worries about Sirius had been pushed out of Harry's mind for the time being.  
  
***  
  
September first arrived in no time. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hastened over to King's Cross Station with their heavy trunks dragging behind them. By now they were so familiar with the tricky entrance into Platform Nine-and-Three-Fourths that they chatted energetically as they passed through. Most students were in high spirits when term began again, but none was ever happier than Harry. He would rather spend more time at magical Hogwarts than with the Dursleys…  
  
Suddenly everything that had happened popped back into his head, and as soon as they found a compartment he decided to tell Hermione and Ron.  
  
Upon entering the bright red train, Hermione, who looked absolutely glowing in a forest green cardigan, checked to make sure all her schoolbooks were packed. Earlier she had lost one of her new books without noticing (how could I have been so careless?!), and then continued to check every five minutes afterwards. Ron rolled his eyes as he followed Hermione's stash of wisdom; Harry just smiled.  
  
"Hermione, is this really necessary?" asked Ron.  
  
"Well, of course! I would be completely horrified if I lost another one of my books. I picked up a fascinating collection about ancient runes and spells when we went on our trip. Now wouldn't it be a shame if I lost my precious souvenirs? I think I would be frantic the rest of the day."  
  
Ron, however, wasn't worried; he said coolly, "You already read them all, haven't you?"  
  
"Yes, but that's not the point!"  
  
Ron just mumbled under his breath, and luckily Hermione didn't hear him.  
  
"Why don't we go find Neville, Seamus, and the others? We haven't seen them in a while?" suggested Hermione brightly.  
  
"Well, actually I thought we –" started Harry, hoping that they could have some time to themselves, but he was cut off when someone who was trying to enter the train bumped into his shoulder.  
  
"Excuse me," said a voice hastily.  
  
Harry turned around, a bit annoyed. In an exasperated tone, he said, "Oh you're excused…." Hermione and Ron wheeled around, but it wasn't whom they expected.  
  
Standing in front of them was a boy about their age. He had sharp eyes and dark brown hair that hung loosely about his face. He grunted, but wore a smirk as he turned around. "Potter, Weasley…."  
  
He paused to watch their expressions, which hadn't changed; they still wore a scowl of great dislike.  
  
"I don't blame you for not remembering me – I've changed quite a bit. Let me reintroduce myself: Blaise Zabini, fifth-year Slytherin."  
  
Blaise then looked up and down at Hermione suggestively. With a lowered gaze, he whispered, "My, aren't you a pretty little lady? I like your sweater – it's very becoming." Hermione couldn't help but go red in the face.  
  
"What do you want, Zabini?" shouted Ron impatiently. "Are you here to do Malfoy's biddings now?"  
  
The Slytherin raised his head irritably and looked straight at Ron. "No, I work on my own, thank you very much."  
  
"Watch where you're going, Zabini," said Harry darkly.  
  
"I should say the same to you, Potter. This place is going to get mighty dangerous for people like you." With that, he flashed his eyes and strolled off.  
  
"What's his problem?" said Ron, still watching the figure disappearing into the crowded train.  
  
"No idea – but I'm sure he's right." Ron and Hermione looked at Harry curiously. "Come on, I need to tell you guys a lot of things."  
  
The three of them found an empty compartment and locked the door. He finally had the chance to tell them about everything that happened: the Dursleys' disappearance, the mysterious Snitch, the visit from the Ministry workers, the encounter with Malfoy in the forest, and of course the attack at Sirius' cabin.  
  
This left Hermione very uneasy and scared. She pulled him into a comforting embrace and whispered, "Oh Harry…are you okay?"  
  
Harry sighed. "I just need some time to figure things out. Nothing seems quite right at the moment."  
  
"I'll say," said Ron. "And you suppose You-Know-Who is behind all this?"  
  
"Seems like the most reasonable explanation, that's for sure," said Harry softly.  
  
"Harry, can I see the Snitch?" asked Hermione intrigued. Harry opened his book bag and took out a small box that once contained Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, figuring that the Servicing Kit would be too large to bring into the compartment. It was tied up with lots of string, but she could still see the gold sphere through the clear plastic.  
  
"How utterly fascinating –" she mumbled during this inspection. Ron peered over her shoulder to get a closer look at the glinting object.  
  
"Do you know anything about it? Perhaps the meaning of the markings?" asked Harry.  
  
"It's very hard to discern. The attention to detail is so exact, it's really quite amazing. But maybe – I can find a spell –" Hermione began searching through one of the many books piled in her trunk.  
  
"Ah, here it is! The Wizards of Ancient Rome – got it during the holiday. Most people don't realize that the ancient wizards actually had great skills with magic – some even more complicated than what we have now."  
  
In the meantime, Ron had picked up the little box for a more scrupulous look. He shook the container frantically, causing the little orb to flutter about angrily.  
  
"I swear," said Ron. "That thing knows we're trying to look at it or something! Maybe it doesn't want us to see it –"  
  
All of a sudden Hermione's eyes widened. "Ron! That's it! How brilliant!" She rapidly flipped through the pages as Ron, who was first confused beyond belief, smirked and said, "That's me."  
  
Hermione evidently found what she was looking for, because the heavy tome suddenly flopped onto Harry's lap, startling them both. "It's so obvious! Somebody's cast a basic Evasion Spell on the Snitch."  
  
Harry and Ron stared at her with blank eyes. It seemed every spell was "basic" in Hermione's point of view. Finally, she rolled her eyes and explained.  
  
"It can only be reversed by being in the presence of the person who cast it."  
  
Suddenly the little Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans box wasn't enough to retain the fidgety orb. In a burst of gold, the Snitch exploded out of its paper prison and darted through the train corridor. Hermione immediately jumped to her feet and grabbed at Ron's arm.  
  
"Come on! We've got to catch it!"  
  
"Why us?!" said Ron, eyeing Harry. "We've got the youngest seeker in over a century right here!"  
  
"Really, I'll just stay here," said Harry, not much feeling up to chasing a crazed Golden Snitch through the Express. "You know…to make sure no one tries to steal anything," he added quickly.  
  
"Oh, good idea!" said Hermione quickly before pulling Ron out of the compartment. Harry simply smiled as he watched the two hustle down the narrow corridors. Ron shouted apologies to the many people Hermione pushed over as she dragged him away.  
  
Harry couldn't help himself but laugh, but again he felt a strange presence watching him. He turned around, but it wasn't Malfoy or Zabini. Among the crowds of students passing through the corridor, there stood a girl – and a very beautiful one at that. She stood by the compartment door peering intensely at Harry. Harry felt awkward and eventually decided to say something.  
  
"Hi. I've never seen you before," said Harry, with a feeling of great stupidity.  
  
Harry had the knack of saying the slowest things to girls. His mind jumped back to Cho before last year's Yule Ball. "Er, I mean, can I help you?" he tried adding quickly.  
  
Great...even better, he thought.  
  
The girl just stood there for a moment, and Harry was sure she was about to leave when she gestured toward the empty seat in the compartment. "May I?"  
  
Harry was quite taken aback. It seemed that his nervous-at-the-worst-moments quality didn't offend the ladies too badly. But as much as it confused him, Harry decided to smile and play along. With a slight shake in his voice, he said, "Er - sure, of course. There's no one here but me."  
  
The girl picked up her bag, which contained a couple of books, a wand, and a quill, and sat down across from Harry. She had straight rusty hair that went down to her shoulder and the most beautiful brown eyes Harry had ever seen. She sat by the window, and as the sunlight beamed down, her hair had the slightest gleam of red.   
  
Don't fall for another one, he thought to himself, remembering his attraction to Cho. Harry knew that beauty was not the most important thing – he just needed to remind his eyes a lot.  
  
"So, I assume you're a graduate?" said Harry, feeling dumber than ever.  
  
"Oh no," said the girl with a bit of a laugh, and unless he was mistaken, she had a bit of a quiver in her gentle voice as well. "I'm only a fifth year. My parents preferred that I transfer from Beauxbatons. They have been very...interested in all that's been going on at Hogwarts."  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously. What was that supposed to mean?  
  
Perhaps the mysterious girl had realized she said something too personal. Her eyes darted to the floor. "Anyways, I should probably mention that -" The girl was cut short when a train guard suddenly appeared at the door, saying, "Back to your compartments. We'll be arriving at Hogwarts soon enough."  
  
The beautiful girl looked at Harry, her brown eyes sparkling. She stood up, rather quickly, although Harry hoped she was just feigning her lack of reluctance. She watched the guard continue on, and then quietly, while exiting the compartment, she whispered, "It's nice to meet you, Harry Potter."  
  
Harry sighed, but out of the corner of his eye something caught his attention. By the compartment door, a single black feather lay on the ground. 


End file.
